


We'll Be Fine

by Antarc



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Crying, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25900543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarc/pseuds/Antarc
Summary: You’d think that with his aggressive bravado and notoriously short fuse, Billy would be the one to never cry.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 16
Kudos: 127





	We'll Be Fine

You’d think that with his aggressive bravado and notoriously short fuse, Billy would be the one to never cry. That he’d rather hide all ‘unmanly’ displays of emotion behind a stoic face. But, for one: He’s mellowed out a lot. He’s twenty-eight, not eighteen. He’s got a steady job, friends whose idea of a good time involves grilling at the beach while getting pleasantly buzzed and a place with his boyfriend, far, far away from his asshole of a father. For two, he’s not exactly a crier per se. 

He does cry, at sad movie endings and after his twice yearly phone calls when he gets yelled at by his dad. When he wakes up from a nightmare, even years after leaving Hawkins. It happens sometimes and he’s okay with it. 

He’d learned to be silent about it, ever since his mom left. His face will twist and the tears will run down his cheeks, leaving hot tracks in their wake, while he’s careful with his breaths and the noises he allows to come through. Sucks in the air and holds it in his lungs, lets it out in controlled measures. It’s a habit he hasn’t been able to shake. 

The important part is that he’s not afraid to curl into Steve’s body and let himself shiver and sniffle through the tears until he’s done. Would rather let it out for a bit until he’s all cried out and tired.

No, the one who never cries is Steve.

It isn’t noticeable, at first. Steve is an expressive person. He can be goofy and loud when he wants to, can be mindless and impulsive with an impressive confidence to back him up, even now that he’s calmed down a bit over the years as well. It’s the silence that comes when he’s angry or sad that often betrays how deeply he’s been hurt. When he’s angry, given time to stew in it, he’s cold. Sharp, clipped words. Icy stares. They don’t fight often, anymore, though. They’ve spent a good chunk of time establishing boundaries and what sets each other off and have learned that talking it through is easier for both of them in the long run.

It’s the crying that sticks out in its complete absence. It’s not like Billy has a monopoly on trauma. He’s talked a little bit with Will Byers about being possessed. Has had his heart-to-hearts with Max about her experiences in Hawkins, about the monsters from the Upside Down and the monster living in the house in Cherry Lane. Steve just. Doesn’t talk about Hawkins. Over the years, he’s let small snippets of information slip through. That a girl vanished in his pool. That he used to have a nail-studded bat meant for monsters. That he has to get yearly brain scans because ‘the Russians might have knocked a few screws loose’.

That last part scares Billy a little. Because Steve occasionally has panic attacks so bad he locks himself into the bathroom and only lets Billy inside when he’s dry cheeked and able to give one-syllable responses. They happen more often when he needs to go to the hospital- and those visits have grown more frequent, after he’s been getting more frequent migraines. They’re trying to figure out if he needs medication, it seems.

Steve pushes down, down, down, until he’s numb. Until he physically walks away, out of the room, sometimes out of their house.

There are slip-ups, though. When Steve gets a call from his mother, telling him that her and his dad are getting a divorce and he doesn’t need to bother coming over for Christmas anymore. When he comes home from his check-ups at the hospital, shaky and pale. When they have a fight, about both Billy’s and Steve’s health. There’s moments where Billy thinks ‘this is the moment he breaks’, but the crack never bursts open. Not in his presence, at least.

It’s all comes to a head one Saturday morning when Billy is supposed to drop into the office until noon. He hates taking work home. Especially when he wants to spend the rest of the weekend focused on Steve, who has been noticeably subdued this past week after another appointment at the hospital. There’s a lot less to do at the office than expected and Billy finds himself heading back much earlier, looks forward to having a late breakfast with Steve. Maybe they’ll go right back to bed and get frisky. Or he’ll drag his boy to the beach, spend the afternoon in the water and sun.

Instead, he comes home to find Steve curled up next to their bed on the floor. Hands tightly wound through his hair, face pressed into his knees. His stomach sinks when the sound in the room, a quiet, ongoing whine, registers as originating from Steve. He clears the distance within seconds, crouches down next to him and wraps his arms around his back. Feels Steve’s body rocking back and forth, back and forth.

“No. No, no, no, no,” Steve pushes out, desperate and breathless. “Don’t look.” He tries to curl away, limbs shaking so hard all he manages is to grasp weakly at Billy’s forearm. Doesn’t push him away. Billy feels Steve’s grip tighten, instead.

“Don’t look at me.”

Billy shushes him. “It’s okay,” he says, no idea how to console him. Wants to cry a little, too, seeing Steve in such distress. “You’re safe. I don’t mind. You’ll be okay.” A high keen comes in response, turns into loud, body rocking sobs that shake both of them. 

Time stretches. Heartbreaking noises just keep pouring out of Steve, like a dam has broken and he’s unable to contain what comes pouring out of him. Finally, his inconsolable sobs peter out into tired, labored breathing. Billy lifts his prone form up, drags him onto the bed. Pulls him close against his side, feels Steve’s arms hug his middle and drags the blanket over him, to give him the option to hide his face a bit longer.

It occurs to Billy, while he waits for Steve to calm down enough to coax some water and food into him, that he probably waited until Billy went to work to let himself freak out. That this probably isn’t the first time it’s happened. It makes him want to yell at Steve, for not coming to him when he’s this upset- for not trusting Billy to see him like this. But he also knows a thing or two about Steve’s reluctance to show negative emotions around his own parents. Knows there’s different ways the two of them have learned to protect themselves from pain, even when they no longer have to.

He runs his hand through soft, dark hair. Tucks a strand behind Steve’s ear without even looking, motion so ingrained in him by now he operates on pure instinct. 

“Hey,” comes a scratchy voice from somewhere below his armpit. “Your shirt is gonna get wrinkled.” It makes a small smile tug at his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be shy, leave a comment 😊


End file.
